


Open Grave

by TumbleSnout



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Whump, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, DUTCH WAS NOT ALWAYS HORRIBLE, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Arthur Morgan, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, RDR2, Sinkhole, Whump, but can be platonic, but like non sexual lmao, hosea deserved better, intended to be charles/arthur, maybe?? - Freeform, minor spoilers for chapter 2, mostly - Freeform, vandermatthews
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 08:38:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17742620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TumbleSnout/pseuds/TumbleSnout
Summary: The sack of groceries fell to the ground with a crash, alcohol bottles shattering against provisions, but that was the least of Arthur’s concerns at the moment.“C’mon, or Morgan’s gonna get away!”He dug his spurs into his horse’s side, pushing her to her limits while mentally apologizing for the abuse. The shouts and taunts of the O'driscolls behind him kept him going, itching to reach for his gun but knowing he's have to focus all his energy on riding awayOf course, things were about to get a whole hell of alot worse for them both.Arthur was jerked back sharply by his neck as a lasso tightened around his throat, yanking him back from his saddle as the spurs drew gashes across his white arabian's flanks, causing her to whinny in alarm and take off.Arthur is ambushed by a pack of O'driscolls while on a supply run and falls into a sinkhole. After he fails to return with the supplies, Charles begins to get concerned. It isn't like him to go off on one of his long outings without letting him know first. The gang is mostly annoyed, but isn't worried, knowing Arthur.That is, until his white arabian barrels into camp with no rider.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwriter/gifts).



> hi !!!!!!!1! okay so this is actually my first work for this fandom bc i love the game so much but i also hate it bc it made me cry. I tried to do Charles/Arthur but it can be seen as platonic if you want. i'll try to update consistently and not abandon it like literally everything else i've ever written lol
> 
> This is unbetaed at the moment, but I have some buddies that would probably be willing to do so, so please excuse any errors for now and i’ll go back and fix them. Also, while I have finished the game twice now, i’ll try to keep spoilers away. This takes place about mid chapter two, after Sean is rescued, so very minor spoilers only.
> 
> HOWEVER, please keep comments spoiler free relating to later game events and deaths for those who are trying to experience it for themselves!!!
> 
> Oh, one more thing! If you have any ideas for whumpy scenarios, please let me know! I’m trying to slowly get back into writing again, so I probably won’t get every request, but if the idea gets my interest i’ll give it a shot!
> 
> Rest in peace, Ghost.
> 
> Enjoy!

The sack of groceries fell to the ground with a crash, alcohol bottles shattering against provisions, but that was the least of Arthur’s concerns at the moment.

“C’mon, or Morgan’s gonna get away!”

He dug his spurs into his horse’s side, pushing her to her limits while mentally apologizing for the abuse. The shouts and taunts of the O'driscolls behind him kept him going, itching to reach for his gun but knowing he'd have to focus all his energy on riding away

Of course, things were about to get a whole hell of a lot worse for them both.

Arthur was jerked back sharply by his neck as a lasso tightened around his throat, yanking him back from his saddle as the spurs drew gashes across his white arabian's flanks, causing her to whinny in alarm and take off. His hands went to his throat as he hit the ground with a thud, pain shooting up his tailbone. Rationality breaking through his panicked haze, he reached down for his knife and managed to cut through the rope. Arthur gasped as sweet air entered hs lungs, leaving him coughing and sputtering as he started to get up.

And then a boot met the back of his head and he tumbled forward.

Voices shouted and laughed all around him as a knee was planted on the small of his back, starting to bind his wrists.

If he were to let that happen, he was going to die, he was certain of it.

Entering Deadeye, he yanked his hand away to his holster, rolled over, and aimed the gun at the boy's head, silhouetted against the harsh noon sunlight.

He pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rung in his ears. It always had with deadeye.

The boy, no older than young Lenny himself, dropped dead. Shouts of alarm and fury escaped his attackers, and before they could get a clear shot, he was shoving him off and sprinting into the woods. gunshots rang out, echoing through the trees. Suddenly, there was nothing for his foot to land on, and with a yelp, he was falling.

 

* * *

 

"Mr. Smith, have you seen Arthur? I asked him to go on a supply run, it was his turn."

Charles looked up from where he was whittling an arrowhead in the firelight, furrowing his brows as Pearson crossed his arms.

"He came to me a few hours ago to let me know he was heading into town. He shouldn't have been gone this long, considering he didn't bring Lenny along this time."

Pearson snorted as a yell sounded from the campfire.

"I heard that, Charles!"

"Either way, his horse is still gone and i'm out of seasoning for the stew."

Charles was honestly surprised he even had seasoning, much less used it in that bland, godawful soup. He started to get up, stretching.

"If he doesnt turn up soon, i'll head into valentine and check the saloon, okay?"

"Alright, I appreciate it-"

"Bloody hell!"

"Damn horse!"

Charles jumped, dropping what he was working on as Sean and John shouted from the scout campfire, along with screaming from Kieran and many frightened whinnies. A white horse reared into the air, eyes bulging and nostrils flaring.

Arthur's horse.

 


	2. Chapter 2

He recognized Ghost immediately and rushed over as she damn near trampled Kieran, stomping her hooves and snorting.

"Woah, there! Easy girl, it's just me." Charles slowed his approach, raising his hands to show that he wouldn't hurt her. Ghost, being untrusting and undyingly loyal, only let a select few people get close. These people included Arthur, Hosea, Charles himself, and surprisingly, Kieran.

"Calm down. It's me, hmm?" She snorted, shuffling back. He reached for his satchel, pulling out an apple. Now that got her attention, and she allowed him to present it to her, flicking her ears.

"There you go-"

"What the  _hell_ is going on here, Mr. Smith?" Charles turned to see Dutch himself making long strides towards him, brows knitted with annoyance and concern.

"That's Arthur's horse." Hosea spoke up before Charles could answer, standing up from where he'd been sitting at the table.

"She just barreled in, nearly ran John and Sean over."

Dutch frowned, walking forward and putting a hand on Lenny's shoulder, who had walked up without Charles noticing.

"This happens more often than you'd think. Hosea, see if you can follow her trail anywhere. Take Charles, he's our best tracker. Lenny, you're with me. We'll check Valentine. Particularly, the sheriff's office."

Dutch kept talking, but Charles didn't bother to listen to the rest, mounting Taima and clucking for Ghost, getting her attention as she moved alongside his horse. Only then did he notice the blood, making his heart skip a beat. Matted and dried on her snow white flanks, it spawned from cuts across her thighs. Maybe she cut herself? Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was near identical on both sides.

Spurs.

* * *

 

Arthur came to, aching and cold. The moonlight filtering through the trees would normally be gentle and welcome, but now it was thrusting ice picks into his eyes. He scrunched them shut with a groan, taking a moment to assess the situation.

He was soaking wet and cold. Slimy. Breathing was difficult, and his head hurt something fierce. He must have hit it. He slowly started to open his eyes again, finding himself in a...cave? Hole? Arthur started to sit up, pushing himself out of the mud with his elbow. He stopped when pain flared through his thigh as something shifted, causing him to let out a sharp yelp and sink back down into the muddy pit.

Upon further inspection, he realized that there was a throwing knife embedded in the back of his thigh.

_Well, shit._

Memories of the altercation from earlier came flooding back. Damn, he must have been so amped up on adrenaline that he hadn't even noticed.

On instinct, he reached to remove the foreign object, then stopped himself. What the hell was he doing? Sure, it hurt, but the blade was keeping him from bleeding out if it were bad.

Searing pain shot through his temple, assaulting his senses. Slowly raising his injured leg, he scooted back against the wall of the sinkhole, praying that he wouldn’t accidentally cause it to cave in even more. Being buried alive did _not_ in any way sound like an appealing way to go. He shuddered at the mere thought as he leaned against the cold dirt, letting his head fall back as he screwed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth to ride out the wave of fresh agony in his thigh.

Once it finally, _finally_ seemed to subside, he allowed himself to take in his surroundings. A cold, wet sinkhole, definitely deeper than he was tall. Maybe ten, twelve feet? Arthur shuddered, regretting leaving his trademark gunslinger jacket on his horse in favor of the blue overshirt and neckerchief he wore now.

_What in the hell was I thinking?_

Temperatures in New Hanover could easily get into the thirties at night, just warm enough to keep from icing. He needed something to help warm him up, lest he freeze to death. Arthur reached for his satchel to grab some whiskey when he realized that  _the damn thing wasn't there._

"Keeps gettin' better and better, don't it?" He scoffed, reaching up and pulling his hat down over his eyes before crossing his arms.

_'Least I've still got that._

He'd have to figure out something in the morning, knowing full well that he'd do better with a clear head. Arthur settled in, letting out a sigh of exasperation.

It was going to be a long night.

 


End file.
